Become Attached
by Will Peterson
Summary: Aiko Iwase is normally as tough as nails, but there are two points in her career when her armor breaks down. Incidentally, both occur when she's with Eiji Nizuma.
1. Chapter 1

_Eiji and Iwase had interesting interactions, in my opinion. I wish the manga had further developed their relationship, but I guess_ Bakuman_ wanted to focus on other things._

_Thank you for reading._

**Part 1**

She started coming over to his apartment every night, after his assistants left, ostensibly for the purpose of discussing _+Natural _with him. If her visits carried any other motives – and she wasn't saying that they did – then she was sure he wouldn't notice. Eiji Nizuma's whole world consisted of pens and plot lines and panels, of dynamic battles and fancy names for flashy moves, of characters with their cool clothes and large stylized eyes. His mind was so deeply entrenched in manga, he was oblivious to reality. At least, that's what Iwase believed at first.

It came as a total surprise when Nizuma made that off-the-cuff remark one night. He was sitting at his desk, his pen gliding across paper, while she stood a respectful distance behind him. She watched his hand move in the yellow light of his desk lamp. There was nothing unusual about that evening, nothing to foreshadow what he was about to say. He simply spoke out of the blue, not even turning around to face her. "You know, it's dangerous for a woman to be alone with a man in his apartment at night."

He put her in a state of disbelief. Not because of the warning itself. She knew he wasn't dangerous to her or to anyone; the very thought was laughable. She was more disconcerted by the level of awareness needed to make that remark, an awareness that she previously didn't know he possessed.

She didn't reply to his comment. He didn't say any more. The night fell back into silence.

She continued her visits, albeit a little more warily, now that she knew he was capable of reading into them. There was a voice in her mind that kept telling her to wise up and stop spending so much time with him, lest he begin to suspect her feelings. She argued with this voice, telling herself it would be absurd to avoid him. Isn't it normal for collaborators to meet and discuss their work?

Her thoughts were still battling each other as she entered his apartment again that night.

He was at his desk, as usual. Her first order of business, right after greeting him, was to remind him of her proposal for a _Crow_ and _+Natural_ crossover. His answer was the same as it had been for the past few days, which was that he was still thinking about it.

She could've said more after that, but he was busy spinning a scene to life on his desk. He yelled out sound effects and darted his hand all over his paper. The feathers stuck into his shirt collar flapped with his movements, as if they were attached to real birds. Something in the way he worked, so engrossed in his fantastical world, made her voice shy away as if repelled by a force field. After watching him for a bit, the words she'd planned to say were replaced by entirely new ones.

"Nizuma," she said. "I want to talk to you about something."

"I just told you that I'm still thinking about it."

"No, not about the crossover. Something else. Forgive me for saying this, but I've heard some strange things about you. Apparently you once said that you do nothing other than eat, sleep, and draw."

"I've probably said that more than once in my lifetime," he replied cheerfully.

"You're confirming it, then?"

"It's not a secret."

She'd heard descriptions of his bizarre lifestyle from their editors, his assistants, and plenty of others who were acquainted with him. She'd never fully believed any of them. Somehow it was even more bewildering to hear a confirmation from Nizuma himself.

She asked him, "Are you happy spending all your time on manga?"

He turned his head to show her a wide grin that was even more exaggerated than his usual one. "Don't I look happy?"

Despite the (rather disturbing) hugeness of his smile, Iwase was still skeptical. "Surely you want to have something else in your life."

"Nope!" His face turned back toward his work. "Manga gives me all the happiness I need."

"Don't you ever wish to take up other hobbies or spend time with friends or . . . or find love, perhaps?" She was acutely aware that she was making a dangerous move here, not to mention crossing a professional boundary. Every word stabbed her throat on the way out.

"You know, I don't mind declaring my love of manga over and over again, but surely someone as smart as you wouldn't need me to repeat myself to get my point." Despite the scolding wording of his reply, his tone was still lighthearted. If her intrusion bothered him, he didn't show it.

She felt chided nonetheless. "I apologize if I seem pushy. It's just that I'm honestly concerned about you. You're happy for now, but you could change your mind in the future. You might become saddened by the lack of romance – ah, and other things – in your life."

"I'll cross that bridge when and if I ever get to it."

All of a sudden, Iwase was blinded by a flash of rage. She knew it was a ridiculous reaction but she just couldn't stop it. He was unbelievable. He set aside the issue so easily, as if it was a bit of dust he brushed off his clothes. Meanwhile, her own love life was a boulder crushing her under its weight. It was a plague of melancholy that followed her everywhere, despite her desperate efforts to escape it.

She thought about Takagi and Hattori and the pure humiliation that had come with each of their rejections. Nizuma didn't know that pain and he probably never would. He was unscathed where she was not. What made him so special? Why did he seem immune to the agonies of romance?

She realized the answer after she managed to calm down. Oh, of course, it was because he lived in manga. He may be an adult in years, but in spirit he was a child permanently stuck inside his own dream world. He couldn't become attached to anyone real.

It would be pointless to pursue him. She'd been insane to even consider it. The smartest thing to do now would be to give up on all those fanciful notions and pretend they had never been in her mind.

As she made this decision, something in her chest squirmed in protest, which she ignored.

"I don't know how manga can make you so content," she commented.

Nizuma actually paused his drawing for a moment to shrug. "Even if I explained it to you, I doubt you'd understand. How can you understand my love of something that you view as low art?"

The heat of a blush crept onto her face. "I didn't know that you knew I said that."

"You're not the only one who hears rumors about your colleagues," he said wryly. "But don't worry. Even if you think that way about manga, I can still work with you just fine."

"That's good to know. And I would still like to hear your explanation, even if you don't think I would understand it."

"I don't question why manga makes me happy. It just does and that's all I need to know. I live for it." He flashed an affectionate smile at his paper, as if he was speaking to his characters instead of her. "And now, Miss Akina, I have a question for you. Can you rightfully say that something is not worthwhile if it is loved so dearly by myself and many others like me?"

The "many others" were little more than a faceless mass to her, but Nizuma was a different story. She hesitated to criticize his life's work. She had respect for him. He may be a closed-off fool but he was undeniably excellent at his job.

Perhaps excellent enough to change her opinion of manga? No. Her eyes fell on the desk where his work lay spread out. One glance at those unreal, exaggerated characters was enough to make her remember why manga was low art. Real books were far more dignified than these cartoons.

"Maybe, maybe not," she finally said in response to Nizuma's question. He didn't press her for a better answer. Perhaps he already knew her true thoughts or perhaps he just didn't care enough to hunt for them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

About two years later, _+Natural_ fell into a rut. Iwase didn't want to admit it to anyone, but even she could tell that the story had become aimless, repetitive, and boring. Apparently, back when she first started the series, she overestimated how long her stroke of inspiration would last. The ideas that had once flowed in a gushing waterfall were now frozen solid.

She still visited Nizuma at times, but not as often as she used to. He had long ago stopped making comments on her story, but she was certain he'd noticed its decline. Whenever she watched him at his desk, silently drawing the pictures for her mediocre words, she imagined all the disparaging thoughts that must be going through his mind. She felt too ashamed to be in his presence.

One night, at the end of a rare visit, Nizuma stopped her just as she made to leave. He asked her to stay with him a bit longer. At his startling request, she felt a thrill run through her, but this quickly gave way to apprehension when she saw the look on his face. It wasn't hostile enough to be called a glare, but there was a definite coolness in his eyes.

He'd turned not only his head but his whole chair so that he could face her. "Let me be blunt. I'm not happy about the way _+Natural_ is going."

She held back a wince. She'd been waiting for this to happen, for him to finally announce that he was tired of laboring over the illustrations for such a bland story. "I apologize," she said evenly.

"Don't just say that. Do something about it."

In the past, such a command would have fired her up and caused her to exclaim her fervent agreement. But she was no longer a zealous, ambitious new writer who could be lit as easily as a match. Her spirits had long ago fallen alongside _+Natural_'s popularity.

"I'm trying," was the empty answer she came up with. "I promise you I'm doing my best to save this story, but I . . . I can't help my own lack of talent."

"That's not the problem here," he said, surprising her. "You have talent. You're just not channeling it into the right area. And _that_ is what I want to talk to you about."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you before that I live for manga. I love it like nothing else in the world. That's why I don't like seeing you try to create it without feeling passionate about it. If the issue was lack of talent, then that wouldn't be your fault, but you intentionally placed yourself in a field that you don't truly care for. You created your own problem."

He sounded matter-of-fact, not cruel, but that didn't soften the meaning of his words. She found it difficult to meet his sharp-eyed gaze. "You told me before that you were fine working with me despite my opinion of manga."

"I was nicer to you than I should've been. I was enamored with the brilliance of your story. I was blinded by it. But now the shine is wearing off and I can see you more clearly. Miss Akina, you should not stay in the manga business if you cannot pour your entire heart into it. Perhaps you should consider returning to your homeland of novels."

That very same idea had been floating around in her consciousness for some time now, but hearing someone else confirm her thoughts out loud did not come as a relief. Quite the opposite, it turned up the pressure of her indecision.

"I've considered going back," she admitted to him, "but I've worked on _+Natural_ for so long. I don't want to abandon it. Even if it appears beyond hope, I want to save it somehow."

Something shifted in his expression. "Yeah? You've become attached to a manga series?"

"I am attached to _this _manga series. It is my own creation, after all."

"So you care for it so much that you don't want to leave it for novels?"

"I . . . I don't know." Her voice was soft but the words fell heavily.

"You don't know?"

"I'm not sure where I want to be. I want to go back to the world of novels, but I want to stay in this world too." Her hand reached up and kneaded her forehead. "Two years ago my expectation was that I'd visit the manga world, create a story, prove my point, and then leave without a backwards glance. I didn't plan to become attached to this place."

"Your plans have fallen through," Nizuma observed. "You're lost, caught between two worlds."

Perhaps he didn't mean to, but he sounded condescending. It grated on Iwase's nerves. She shot him an irate look. "Stop that. I will not stand to be pitied by anyone, especially by someone who doesn't even understand what he's talking about. Never in your life have you known the feeling of uncertainty. You've never been torn between more than one path. You knew you wanted to be a manga creator from the instant you first held a pen at age six. Don't you realize how few people discover their true ambition so early and so easily?"

Rude. He was her collaborator, the faithful illustrator, the only reason her story was still running, not to mention a man that she once almost fell for – and she was being terribly rude to him. It was the first time in two years that she'd crossed a line with him, and the first time ever that she couldn't bring herself to even care. His reaction, meanwhile, was the same as the last time. Reclined in his chair, he was utterly unperturbed. In fact, his mouth curved into a sly smile.

"Isn't that nice." It was worded like a question but spoken like a statement. "You're getting some of your old fire back." His fingertips tapped lightly on the arm of his chair, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock. "That fiery spirit is a precious thing. I know I'm not the only one who knows that. I foresee a certain group of people coming to you soon, assembled for the sole purpose of reviving that spirit in full."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Just as suddenly as it appeared, Nizuma's grin faded. However, the soft frown that took its place actually made him seem kinder and more sincere than before. His face looked more natural when it wasn't twisted by a weird smile.

"You're the kind of person who doesn't like to question herself," he said. "I get that, but sometimes it's okay to be unsure of things. You don't need to have all the answers right away. You can take the time to figure yourself out."

"I don't have all the time in the world to save _+Natural_," she protested. "They'll cancel it if the story doesn't recover soon."

"Hmm, yes, that's true," he remarked. "That's something you'll need to take into consideration while you ponder what to do next."

"I can't –"

"Don't. Of course you can. Surely someone as smart as you can intelligently weigh all your options and then choose one. It's not like anyone else can do it for you, you know. It'd defeat the point if someone tried. But just so you know: even if you fail in one thing, it won't be the end of the world."

His gaze left her. He turned himself and his chair back toward his desk. "I have no more to say," he said. "You should leave. It's late."

Such an abrupt dismissal. It took Iwase a few seconds to realize what he'd just said.

She turned from him and walked out of his apartment. His words spun round and round her head as she made the journey home. Something about the beat of her heart felt different than usual, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't faster, and it probably wasn't louder, but it was . . . more noticeable. As if reminding her that she was alive.

She arrived home and went to bed, but she didn't sleep. His voice stayed in her mind, keeping her awake long into the night.

Eiji Nizuma. He called himself the eternal child, but he was wiser than one might expect. His words meant a great deal to her. However, even he didn't know what she was going to do next.

Granted, she didn't know either. But still.

She wanted to go back to the familiarity of novels. She wanted to stay and save _+Natural._ She wanted to write. She didn't know what to write.

But she couldn't let herself be defeated. She would figure it all out. Her hand reached up into the darkness and clenched into a fist, as if seizing upon that determination. Nizuma was right that no one else could decide her fate for her. This was her own life; it was her own puzzle to solve.

She had no idea how she was going to do it, but she did know that she would succeed no matter what. Even if she crashed and burned along the way, she'd rise up again and continue.

END


End file.
